[ she barely flinches when he suddenly rounds on her; rather her body language is welcoming, even as he grins that arrogant grin of his and refers to himself — wulf, is it? — in the third person.

her voice goes flat. ]

I don't remember a thing, so let's hope your encore performance stands out a little more.

[ there is a little bit of nutella left on his lower lip, that much she can see now that he hovers so close. she sucks it off with a deliberate pull to that lower lip, intending for it to sting, just a little. ]

Is my face so unappealing you have no desire to see it at all during?

[ on top of his head her hand goes, and though she has no real physical strength to speak of, even a dolt like beowulf should be able to notice the definitive downward push of that hand. she wants you lower, pup. ]

Get me wet first, and then I'll decide.